IMPERTINENCE
by kuroren23
Summary: Sebastian's thoughts on his little "master" and the many characters they meet including Claude and Trancey.My little take on the episodes of Kuroshitsuji Season 2.
1. Impertinence

AUthors Note: Standard Disclaimer applies. This story isn't mine and I don't think I could ever make it, even if i tried. Now this is just my take on what i felt when i watched the first episode of Kuroshitsuji anime season 2. Somehow, its amusing to think of an incensed Sebastian after being subjected to the Trancey household. Please enjoy.

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**IMPERTINENCE**

**SEBASTIAN**

No…I couldn't let such filthy peasant touch my young master. Who does he think he is to covet someone who is so far above him? Foolish young urchin—to yearn so much for one who lives beyond his world—it would've been more apt had I broken every bone in his body for such impudence. To cry out and lay claim on my master—such arrogance cannot-should not be borne. At least not for very long.

Yet he is too foolish to know his crime. Does he think I will allow him to speak my young master's name? Never… Not with his uncouth lips that deigned to speak his name again and again…Had I been not so pressed for time I would have exacted a more fitting punishment for such vulgarity. I would have ripped his tongue out and fed it to him had I been so inclined. Truthfully I was inclined, especially since he had the audacity to step so close to me and give me an indelicate sniff. Pathetic beast concealed under the mien of human kind.

He was lucky that my mind was on other matters and my master had urgent need for me. Had it not been for that singular possession I needed to secure from his cellar, I would never have entered his domicile. Did he really believe that his name…the paltry Trancey name, would be enough of a merit to allow him such privilege? Such foolishness and impertinence shouldn't be tolerated under any condition. I shall exact a suitable retribution when the matter with my master is settled. For now, the young Alois Trancey should enjoy his stay of execution, along with that of his nearly incompetent, tasteless butler. All those gilded surfaces nearly made me gag-really, someone could've taught them better.

No mortal save one should utter my young master's name with such impunity. And since such creature no longer exist…then there is no one left with that blessing—that singular gift. I alone stand guard against my master's honor while he is indisposed…I alone will be judge and jury to those that dare cross the border that separates the filth of human kind and the precious charge that I am tasked with.

For now, I have accomplished one goal. I have retrieved my young master's possession. I must ensure that he has not suffered unduly due to my sudden flight from the Trancey household. I touch him with the utmost care…ensuring that even his favored sterling rose would not have so much as a bruised petal. My young master must be impeccably turned out at all times. I will not allow him to appear in public like a common child. Not unlike that rustic that tries to disguise him commoner roots with silks. My master's birthright shines from every pore. Even in slumber he exudes more grace than could be managed by that young tawdry whelp.

I slip his ring home where it belongs. The Phantomhive ring that could only be worn by its rightful heir and master. I watch as the fading sun illuminates it once more. That inimitable shade of blue that could knows only one rival here on earth…That shade of blue that pales in comparison to the mesmerizing glow that dwells in my master's eyes. Those forsaken eyes that would tempt hell to take on heaven itself.

Soon he will once again command me. Soon, I will be bathed once more in his luminescence…his brilliance that outshines the brightest star…soon…I will have my master back where he belongs. Soon…I will be completed…with him alone…soon I will rise once more and we would paint the world darker than it has ever been before.


	2. Deja Vu

Authors Note: Ok I'm writing this because I keep noticing the little lapses that Ciel seem to display from time to time regarding the people around him. If you've caught them yourself, then this is one piece written for simple amusement regarding the what-ifs and what-have-yous. However, if you haven't, then perhaps I would give you a reason to look at the episodes from Kuro II in an entirely different way. I hope we shall enjoy this endeavor together.

As always this series—either the anime or manga—belongs to me. I could only claim the madness where these well-loved characters find themselves in.

On that note, I will predominantly use Sebastian's POV. Sue me.

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**Déjà vu**

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_**Rien ne pèse tant que un secret.**_

"Nothing weighs more than a secret."

- La Fontaine

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There are lapses. I expected them—knew of them. Nothing surprises me—well, there are few exemptions of course, but then, they are always within the range I predicted. I knew that they would come. Like the inevitable tide that ebbs to and fro…I anticipated that they would surface to mar the calm seas of our existence. It would have been more disturbing if they didn't occur. I would've wondered then.

_**Déjà vu**_

So harmless a word…a simple statement that flows smoothly through my lips like the faintest exhalation of breath…slipping though parted thin flesh without any resistance. It calls to mind exotic nights and clandestine affairs conducted under the unyielding guardianship of the moons tongue.

Perhaps I should say it was a fickle moon bathed in the glorious compelling shade of blood splashed with wanton abandon along the cold steadfast London gutters. I regret depriving my master of it—of the unforgettable perfume of betrayal and death that clung to that stale evening air as screams rend the traumatized denizens of the night. Would that I could gift that memory to him as surely as I could wipe from his bruised and blackened heart the tell-tale stain created by subtle fragrance of roses crushed beyond recognition or reclaim lying beneath a body that would forever immortalize itself in my master's jealous heart—claiming yet another corner of the soul I wish to possess utterly. A brief flickering vision of a scarlet-tinted hell on earth that haunts his dreams, robbing him of the succor that abyss and darkness yields ever-so willingly to him whenever I am near.

_**Déjà vu**_

I have erased from the mansion any trace of the personalities that no longer plays a part in my master's world. I have eradicated them like so much raw material—superfluous and unnecessary—and of no further use to his continued well being. It is merely the act of a dutiful butler—tidying up messes and tucking away unneeded bits and bobs that doesn't represent the best that my master has to offer.

_"Make sure that Madam Red doesn't know where we're going and why. This is just the kind of thing that she likes…"_

No…I do not fear that he would remember anything about what happened before. I am not that careless as to leave the serenity of my master's home to chance. I will not allow myself to forget even for a moment that my entire existence is realized to ensure that nothing—absolutely nothing—is left to chance or fate's fickle whim.

_"It would be annoying to have her breathing down my neck…"_

No…the good Madam would surely never again cause that particular sensation ever again. As far as he is considered, his absent relative is simply too busy to be anywhere near him. I am happy to maintain the illusion that the dearly departed Madam Red has simply succumbed to reason and logic when it comes to disturbing her extremely preoccupied young nephew or that a new trend in London has yet again captured her fleeting obsessive fancy. I do not regret the subterfuge, merely amused by it. I would have done so much more pro-active measures should my master suddenly feel inclined to see the now presumably rotting corpse of the once delectable Madam. I am not without choices.

Déjà vu

Ah…the law enforcement units of dreary old London. Dare I state the obvious, my master works most of the foulest crimes the city has had in months and yet for all our success and accomplishments, we still dance around the sniping jackals that was Scotland Yard. It's enough to make my decrepit demon heart weep with unholy mirth. The Yardsmen remind me of the callow untrained whelps of hell—growling and howling at every shadow that lurks, chasing after every small trace of excitement that holds the faintest chance of keeping ennui at bay.

But there is one face there that I watch keenly more than any other. A face that my crimson eyes follow without thought simply because it amuses me to know that no matter how he parades himself, my precious little master would never truly see him as he would have had before.

There was nothing remarkable bout the Yard-whelp. Just another run of the mill swine in the sty that is London. Another useless cog in the great greased wheel that the powers that be maintain to create a semblance of existence. I knew that my master barely acknowledges this face, he feels no need to, he knows no compulsion to look closely at those self-same eyes, the same features carved from yielding bone and flesh though this version is decidedly more vapid than the original.

He no longer remember the one he once claimed walks in the light, whereas my master only allows himself to walk in the darkness. Had I been as fickle and weak as humans I would've resented my master's wayward affection towards that other face, that other name that managed to steal a corner of my master's soul by simply being foolish and human…for being something neither of us could never be. As the matter stands I am provided endless amusement every time they meet…watching and waiting for what would never occur. That while one bears unknowing a face once precious and beloved, the eyes that should've known and recognized them is rendered no better than a strangers, no better than blind, useless ones that never knew the bitter illumination of light.

He doesn't know what he could've attained had my master retained all his memories. He could've caused him pain and that is something I will never allow. My master is mine to care for—even if he does seem to attract attackers and hostage-takers on a daily basis. My aggravation is always paid in full whenever I hold him cradled in my arms at the end of each debacle we face as the Queen's dog. For that pleasure alone, I would have wished him mugged every day.

Now, if I could only get rid of that uncouth tramp and his second rate copy cat, my life would be sheer perfection.


End file.
